


Painful Mementos

by Lady_Phenyx



Series: Whumptober 2019 [19]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Background Springtime Trio, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Good Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, Springtime Trio - Freeform, ask to tag, at least they're working towards it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Phenyx/pseuds/Lady_Phenyx
Summary: Snufkin has scars on both heart and body that he's afraid to show the people he cares about.Thanks to a sudden storm, a conversation he's been putting off has to be had.Whumptober Day 15: Scars





	Painful Mementos

It had been a month since Joxter had appeared, and he and Snufkin...well, they both were trying. They both wanted a relationship, they just weren't sure how to go about it.

Moominpappa came up with the idea of all of them going on a little sail and a picnic on a nearby island. Somehow, he, Moominmamma, Moomin, Snorkmaiden, and Little My ended up coming along as well.

Which, well...it was nice, even if it wasn't really the 'bonding' activity Moominpappa had envisioned.

Still, they were having fun, watching Joxter snitch food and making flower crowns and being together.

It was almost better, in a way, as they both had a bit of a buffer, a way to sit back and watch the other.

At least, until the thunderstorm rolled in overhead with no warning, dumping gallons of water on them in seconds and making them scramble for shelter.

There was a cave nearby and they all piled into it, laughing breathlessly at the sudden change of weather and soaking wet.

Moominmamma began passing around the blankets they'd been using for the picnic to get dried off.

She paused by Snufkin, sitting down slowly. “Oh, Snufkin, you should take off that smock, it's soaked and it's getting chilly in here.”

“Oh, I don't...” Snufkin began, faltering under Moominmamma's gentle, concerned eyes.

After a moment, Snufkin took off his smock, a little reluctantly. It was soaked through, and dirty, and there was no where to hide here if Moominmamma asked him to...

“You'll have to take the shirt off, too,” Moominmamma said gently. “It's too cold to keep it on, soaked like that. You'll catch a chill. I have a blanket for you, and another for your father. Don't be shy, dear.”

Snufkin hesitated again, glancing around the small cave. At Moomin and Snorkmaiden, Little My and Moominpappa and Joxter.

Moominpappa was trying to get Joxter to hand over his smock and shirt, but he wasn't coaxing the way Moominmamma was. It was wrestling, at this point, with Moominpappa trying to get the squirming and quick Joxter into a headlock.

It had most everyone's attention, but his hesitance was drawing attention to him as well.

Biting his lip and seeing no way out of it, Snufkin stripped off his shirt and handed it over, taking the blanket.

Not quickly enough, as he heard Snorkmaiden and Moomin draw breath behind him, and he winced, curling in on himself.

“Snufkin?” Moomin asked softly.

“I...I've been on my own a long time,” Snufkin said quietly, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, not meeting Moominmamma's eyes, knowing she'd gotten a view of the front. “Out in the wilds. Things...don't always end well. And a lot of places aren't as welcoming as Moomin Valley.”

On the other side of the cave, Moominpappa and Joxter had paused in their playful wrangling.

Joxter came over, reaching out to Snufkin slowly, his hand hovering until Snufkin glanced up at him before touching Snufkin's shoulder gently. “Show us?” he asked softly.

Snufkin winced, hesitating and glancing over at Moomin and Snorkmaiden.

“They say that scars are tattoos with better stories,” Moominpappa said. He slowly sat down by Moominmamma, holding out his arm to Snufkin. “Here, feel. You can't see it, but there's one right...here,” he said, directing Snufkin's hand. “From the time we almost crashed the _Oshun Oxtra._ Oh, and there's one along my wrist from when we were captured by pirates, your father and I. He was trying to cut my ropes with his claws, but both our hands were behind our backs so he was doing it blind, you see? It's a small one, but it's there.”

Joxter grumbled something, and Moominpappa waved a careless paw. “Oh, I've never been upset about that, it was an accident. I'm just thankful it's the worst we got out of the whole ordeal. But it's proof it happened.”

Moominmamma nodded. “I have them on my paws. Accidents will happen in a kitchen, you know. But the fur covers them, so it looks like I don't. It takes a large one to disrupt the pattern of a Moomin's fur. You don't have to show them to anyone if you don't want to, but you don't need to be ashamed of them, either.”

“Yes I do,” Snufkin said, very quietly, drawing in on himself. “I...” he looked away, down at the dirt floor, unsure if he could, should, say what he was thinking.

Feelings were complicated. Sometimes he missed the times when he'd been on his own and hadn't had to talk with anyone, but always it was weighed against these people and he found himself returning again and again. He needed his time alone, always would, but somehow, now, he needed these people in his life as well.

“I'm supposed to be able to take care of myself,” he finally said. “People put a...they put expectations on me, and then when they find out I'm not...I don't...and what happened...”

Joxter reached out, gently lifting Snufkin's chin, resting his forehead against Snufkin's, each movement slow enough Snufkin could draw away if he didn't want it. They stayed that way for a moment, reassurance and love and comfort.

“Your scars are accidents. Most of mine are, but some of them...” Snufkin finally said, opening his eyes to glance up at his father, over at Moomin and Snorkmaiden.

The two were watching with wide eyes, but not with the horror or revulsion, the shattering of some sort of illusions, Snufkin had half feared. With concern, yes, but not that.

Joxter pulled back, and Snufkin shrank back, wondering if what he'd said had crossed that line, made them all realize he was some of the things he'd heard yelled at him.

Joxter pulled off the half unbuttoned smock he and Moominpappa had been wrangling over, pulling off the suspenders and shirt underneath.

Snufkin's eyes flashed over his father's torso, back up to meet his eyes. His father had as many scars on his chest as Snufkin did, if not more.

Then he turned, and Snufkin saw the same scars on his back that Snufkin had on his.

“Some people aren't kind,” Joxter said, turning back to his stunned son. “But some are. No one here expects you to be anyone other than Snufkin, and we're waiting to for you to let us know who that is. That's the person you're showing us to be, not some image we have of who you're supposed to be. A few scars and bad stories aren't going to change how we feel about you. Does it change how you think about me?”

Snufkin looked up at him wide eyed, shaking his head before smiling shyly. He glanced over at Moomin and Snorkmaiden, and Snufkin ducked his head, this time to hide how fond his smile became. Joxter chuckled, giving him a nuzzle before sitting next to Moominpappa, leaning on him.

Soon enough he'd end up sprawled across both their laps, if the brief time Snufkin had known him was anything to go by.

Snufkin turned and went to sit next to Moomin, finding himself tugged gently into sitting between Moomin and Snorkmaiden.

Little My clambered up into his lap, leaning back against his chest. “You gonna talk about any of 'em?”

“I...” Snufkin closed his eyes, dark memories crowding in for a moment. The crack of a lash, the lingering pain, the times he'd hurt himself by accident with no one to help but himself.

Moomin's paw brushed against his arm, a gentle warning, before his arm was lifted. A finger traced along a scar on his back, very faint but straight, one that looked as though it had been painful when fresh, exposed by the blanket slipping. “What happened?” he asked gently. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” he said quickly when Snufkin hesitated.

“It's...it's okay. I wouldn't have it if I'd been faster,” Snufkin said. “It's...some people aren't kind. And some places care more about money than people.” He took a deep breath, leaning back into Moomin's hand. He was usually better at telling stories than this of the places he'd been, the things he'd seen, but... “They were just little kids, and they were hungry. There were hundreds of apples, he could have spared a couple. But he was going to...”

“And you got in the way,” Moomin said, and Snufkin nodded shortly. Snorkmaiden squeezed his paw, and he glanced over to see her eyes shining.

“You're so brave,” she said. Snufkin shrugged uncomfortably.

“There were just little kids,” he repeated. “I mean...”

Snorkmaiden nuzzled a Moomin kiss against his cheek and Snufkin froze. “So brave,” she repeated. “You're such a good person. Our noble vagabond.”

“They don't all have stories like that,” Snufkin said, flushing as he looked away, flustered at the sudden compliments. “Some people are cruel. And they aren't satisfied with throwing people in jail for small things.”

He glanced across to see his father watching, saw the understanding in his father's face, remembered the scars on his father. And found a smile. “But some really are kind.”

Her fingers brushed against faint, puckered scars on Snufkin's hip.

“Barbed wire,” he said. “Around another orchard. I cut it, but one got me. Whipped around like it was alive. Fence was still gone next time I went by, though,” he added with a note of satisfaction.

Her fingers brushed against another set, lighter still, and Snufkin squirmed, the fur tickling gently. “Path gave out under me,” he said. “Fell down a steep slope. There was a lot of loose, sharp rock, and, well...it was a long time ago. Accidents happen.”

Moomin pressed a moomin kiss to the back of Snufkin's paw. “I don't understand how people can be cruel to each other like that, especially to someone like you.”

Snufkin found he'd lost his voice, looking away from Moomin, unable to look into his face and see that care so clear.

A flash of lightning illuminated the cave, reflecting off Joxter's eyes and drawing Snufkin's to him. He'd slowly sprawled across both Moominpappa and Moominmamma's laps, as predicted.

“I got this one from this one time,” Joxter said, touching one on his hairline, well hidden, already struggling to keep a straight face at the memory, “that I was growing out my hair. I just...forgot to cut it for awhile. And I was bathing, mostly because if I didn't I was going to wake up being thrown into a tub by these clowns,” with a little nudge at the flushing Moominpappa's stomach, “and forgot about it. And it brushed against my back, and I,” he had to stop for a moment to laugh, “I thought one of them touched me. So I jumped and my feet slipped. And I went _down._ And I could hear Muddler yelling, do you remember?”

“Oh Booble,” Moominpappa laughed while the rest pressed paws to their mouths, stifling their giggles. “Joxter's _dead!_” he cried out, in a passable imitation of Muddler's wail. “Head wounds bleed so much, too, I think we had to do more to calm him down then to fix you up.”

“And then we get back from the island's first aid center, and I'm in this wheeled chair they wanted me to use,” Joxter continued, “since I twisted my ankle during the dismount, and what did you do? Come on, what did you do?”

“You're the one who did it,” Moominpappa grumbled.

“But you were the enabler,” Joxter sang. “You were the one egging me on.”

“Pappa, what did you do?” Moominmamma asked through her giggles.

Moominpappa blushed. “I might have...encouraged him...to do a wheelie,” he grumbled.

“Challenge accepted. Bam! Right over it went,” Joxter cackled. “And right back to the first aid center. And what did you do instead of helping me?”

Little My was cackling outright, and Joxter threw a grin at them.

“Well?”

“I was laughing too hard to help,” Moominpappa said, blushing harder. “At least I made sure you were all right first!”

“They had me keep the chair,” Joxter added. “Apparently switching me to crutches was, quote, “asking for it”. I mean, he wasn't wrong, considering what we'd already done.”

He looked up at Moominpappa again. “It would have taken, what? Ten minutes? Before we were using them as fake swords or jousting or something.”

“Joxter please,” Moominpappa groaned as around them, everyone giggled harder.

Joxter winked over at Snufkin, who found himself smiling back.

And thought that maybe, he didn't need to be so worried about people he cared about seeing his scars. Not that ones that mattered, at least.


End file.
